argentinian snowcones

I had a date last night. I was still annoyed about not having anything to do this weekend, so when one of the online personals guys asked me out at the last minute, I said yes, even though I worried that it made me look desparate (or at the very least, like I have no life). Anyway, we arranged to meet up at the Buenos Aires Grill in downtown Seattle. It was his suggestion, and I think he was trying to impress me with his knowledge of obscure hole-in-the-wall restaurants, but I’ve actually been there before. (I think he was bummed when I mentioned that.) So I get there and we have some drink called a caparinia or a capahrini or something like that, which the bartender describes to me as an Argentinian snowcone. It was basically a margarita without the tequila aftertaste. I didn’t know the alcohol that they used instead, but it was good. Sweet lime drinks. I’m a fan.

The restaurant was packed and we weren’t going to be able to get a table for an hour & a half, and the wait staff kept bumping us when they’d tango by (literally, they have designated tango dancers that go around the perimeter of the restaurant to entertain the diners — a waiter will just grab a waitress & then they’re off), so we left. We went to Kell’s, which is my favorite Irish pub in Seattle. We sat & had appetizers and talked for a while. He seems like a nice guy, but I don’t think I got that much out of him. It felt pretty one-sided, with me being all bubbly & funny and telling stories, and with him just kind of taking it in but not really contributing anything. Also, he’s 10 years older than me & divorced (no kids), which shouldn’t be a big deal, but for some reason it kind of bothers me. It’s like there’s not as much that we can relate to because we’re practically different generations. Is that age-ist of me? Maybe, I don’t know. He asked if he could see me again & I said yes, although I’m not sure why. I guess I’ll give it one more shot & see if I feel differently about him next time. Or at least I’ll feel a little more sure of my decision when I conclude that he’s not for me.

New season of “The Sopranos” starts tonight. Whee!